The morning keynote speaker will be drunk by noon and have made more money than most of us
will this year. She will tell you she likes fucking
in the coatroom, but calls everyone

darling.

The morning keynote speaker is a virgin.

Damp hands are the most difficult mathematics.

Tomorrow is a new day.
Tomorrow is a new day.
Tomorrow is a new day.
Tomorrow is a…

Let go.

Most of us will die before anyone really knows who we are.
Shadows frighten more
than the real thing.

Don’t drink from a straw, even if the waiter puts it in your water. Have faith
in the power of good coffee. Drink it black.

Keep your pistol holstered
if that’s your thing.

If Ken-who’s-not-Ken looks at you directly, call the motel manager.

Close your eyes, picture this place empty. It’s just you here. It always has been.

Brian Baumgart’s collection of poems, Rules for Loving Right, was released from Sweet Publications in 2017, and his prose and poetry have appeared in a number of print and online journals, including Noctua Review, Cleaver, SLAB, Ruminate, Journal of Wild Culture, and The Good Men Project. He is the Director of the AFA in Creative Writing Program at North Hennepin Community College, just outside Minneapolis, and is 2018 Artist-in-Residence at the University of Minnesota Cedar Creek Ecological Science Reserve. He has an MFA from Minnesota State University-Mankato. His son adores mythological monsters and cryptids, and his daughter has learned to croak “Redrum” while angling her finger at strangers; he will gladly accept responsibility for these children.